


Real Men Use Knives

by YukinaKid



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Five cares, Gen, He Just Doesn't Know How to Show it Well, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Injured Number Five, Injury, Klaus Hargreeves Being a Good Brother, Mention of blood, Mild Description Of Injury, No Incest, Number Five is Done, One Shot, Protective Klaus Hargreeves, Protective Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Sick Klaus Hargreeves, Sickfic, Stitches, strep throat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 19:19:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18879568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukinaKid/pseuds/YukinaKid
Summary: Five just wanted a damn apple without the peel, was that too much to ask for?





	Real Men Use Knives

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Some description of blood and stitches. Nothing too graphic.
> 
> Soooooooo. I don't know what the point of this fic was, other than to satisfy my love of Five and Klaus brotherly bonding.
> 
> I recently got a Chromebook because Tony the MacBook is getting old and his battery life isn't super great anymore and he's easy to steal and make a buck off of on set.
> 
> So, I bought a Chromebook. His name is Five. And yes, he is just about as ornery and moody as Five is, but also appreciates the fact that I love him so we have mutual respect going.
> 
> I also wrote this because I was having a hard time continuing my Fluffernutter story (aka The Cat Story) so I was really trying to work out those kinks.
> 
> As usual, I absolutely hate it, so that means it's probably presentable to the public. 
> 
> Please enjoy, and I sincerely apologize if either Klaus or Five is OOC. I really struggled writing them both this time around.

Klaus knew it was going to be a trying day when he woke up to find his previously dry feeling throat sending sharp pains radiating into his skull. His immune system was complete shit; whether because of the decade plus of drugs churning through his system or because he was just naturally inclined to catch every bug imaginable. He once heard that once you had a specific strain of the cold virus, you could never catch it again. Klaus wasn't sure if he could put stock in that fact or not, seeing as he had probably already contracted every single variation that existed and still continued to get sick. 

 

That didn't help him with his current predicament, however. He was currently tangled up in his blankets, sweat cooling on his skin, with his head pounding. He would like to say that headaches were something he was used to, with the frequency in which he got them, but there was something about pain occupying the same space as your thoughts that he could never just accept and ignore.

 

Then there was this damnable knife-tearing pain coming from his throat. He could probably write a whole book about illnesses he had experienced in his lifetime, but he was currently hard pressed to even recall a memory when he had encountered this one. In fact, he was having a very difficult time recalling much of anything, his brain too focused on the here and now of his current malady. 

 

Which lead to his predicament. He was currently drenched in freezing sweat, his head was pounding, and his throat was trying to gain independence from his body via the tearing of flesh. He let out a low moan which he quickly choked off when the singular knife in his throat tripled in size. His mouth was somehow too dry and too wet at the same time and there was no way in hell he would manage to blissfully pass out until he was able to douse the four alarm fire in his throat. The thought of untangling himself from his bed and heading all the way down to the kitchen for something to drown his pain in was a pipe dream. 

 

He thought he could manage to stumble down the hallway to the bathroom, however. Even if he couldn't, he could definitely lie well enough to his body to convince it that it could. 

 

Without giving himself time to even form a plan, Klaus shoved his arms beneath himself and launched from the bed. While this may have worked ordinarily, he did have fantastic balance after all, he didn't bother to account for the blankets still entwined around him like a vine or the fact that his balance was worth shit when he was sick. So instead of landing on his feet or even on his ass, he face planted into the woven rugs littering his floor instead.

 

It probably took him quite a while to reorient himself, had his mind been interested in this observation. Instead, he spent a good chunk of time waiting for the all encompassing throbbing of his head to ebb instead of radiating agony throughout his awareness.

 

"-aus? Klaus? Klaus, come on man, answer me," a worried voice wormed into his consciousness. It was closer than the other screams of agony, discordant and cacophonous as always. It was a kindness, in a warped sense of the word, that the dead never missed a single second to voice their displeasure to him, because that way he didn't have to confirm he was still among the living. 

 

"KLAUS!" the sharp bark caused him to open his eyes involuntarily. Ben stood over him, wringing his hands anxiously, but also looking like he was about to strangle Klaus for not responding. 

 

"Good morning, Starshine," Klaus drawled, trying very hard to channel his usual demeanor in an attempt to ignore his body. "What troubles you this fine morning?"

 

Ben looked at him incredulously. "You just jumped off the bed and belly flopped on the floor. Even you aren't usually that stupid. What's wrong?"

 

"Nothing, my dear Benjamin. Nothing at all. I was just half asleep, is all. Really need to head to the washroom and powder my nose, you see." The longer Klaus spoke, the drier and raspier his voice was getting. He bit back a wince. "Why, would you like to accompany me? I know you've seen my gorgeous self in all its glory many times, but certainly once more wouldn't be amiss?" He waved his 'Hello' hand delicately, like he was stroking the air. Ben stared him down, cutting through the bullshit faster than he could spout it. Two could play this game.

 

Languorously, he disentangled himself from his blankets and gracefully stood, utilizing the spinning of his head into a dainty sway, sashaying down the hall towards the bathroom. As long as he stayed in motion, his equilibrium remained as he entered the room and promptly shut the door in Ben's face.

 

Obviously undaunted, Ben phased through the door looking quite miffed. Ah, his sweet, infuriating brother. Klaus definitively ignored him, eyes searching for any sort of container to hold water in. The bathroom was bare, however, and unless he wanted to empty the lone bubble bath bottle he spent $30 on, he would be forced to either drink from the faucet or the toilet. 

 

He huffed the most dramatic sigh he could muster as he threw his arms out placatingly and looked towards the ceiling. "I have been forsaken, in my own place of dwelling no less." He sniffed dramatically to cover the short cough his irritated throat squeezed out.

 

"Okay, Shakespeare," Ben groused. "I'll bite. What are you looking for?"

 

"Oh, Benjamin," Klaus swooned. "I am just so parched. My mouth is a desert and I am adrift in the sand." He looked over at Ben through his eyelashes, trying to gauge if his misdirection had worked.

 

Ben's frown had deepened and concern bled across his expression. Klaus sighed again, this one real and much less substantial. He had been with Klaus far too long to not be able to read between the lines.

 

"You're sick," Ben stated simply. Klaus shrugged noncommittally. It was Ben's turn to sigh. "Look, why don't I just go and get-"

 

"It's fine," Klaus interrupted, earning him a long suffering look. "No, seriously. Yeah, I have a headache and my throat is on fire, but I am perfectly capable of going to the kitchen and making us some tea."

 

Ben looked at him skeptically. "I am sure Mom or Pogo would be willing to do that."

 

"And get them all hot and bothered for no reason? Nah. If one of our other siblings were here, of course that would be the best course of action. Their beloved brother is ill, after all. But alas, I will have to go myself." To prove his point, Klaus brushed past Ben and into the hallway. He was perfectly capable of getting something to drink himself. There was no need to bother Mom about it. She was still getting back into the swing of things since she had been violently taken offline. He wasn't ailing enough to put that on her.

 

So down they went, Klaus determinedly marching onward and Ben gliding behind, giving him looks that were making his spine tingle. He had to detour around a cluster of ghosts milling in front of the kitchen, but otherwise the trek was uneventful. Slowly, because he actually was beginning to lose some steam, he plucked some ginger tea from the top shelf and put the teakettle on the stove. He grabbed two mugs, giving Ben the less chipped one, and leaned against the counter to wait for the water to boil.

 

Silence blanketed the room. Klaus eyed the ghosts in the corridor to see if they had noticed him yet. Ben stewed quietly across the table. He nearly knocked over the chair in front of him when the teakettle screamed, startling Ben and, unfortunately, gaining the attention of one of the ghosts.

 

He yanked the kettle a little too forcefully and ended up having to dodge the drops of boiling water that escaped. He dropped the teabags into the mugs and dolled out the water, finally slumping in one of the kitchen chairs and leaning his head on his hands. The steam caressed his face, wafting up and tickling the curls on his temple. The sharp and pungent smell of the ginger embraced him, blurring out the sounds of the now wailing ghosts. His eyes drooped. He could stay in this moment forever. Leisurely, he let his eyes close and pillowed his head on his hands. 

 

\----------------------

 

Five was incensed. Not only had he not slept, he was dragged out of his equations by Diego loudly leaving the house. Something about a crime scene and "Would you like to come with, Five?" Five figured his gesture was more expressive than words, as Diego rolled his eyes and shut his door again a tad too forcefully. He had attempted to pick up where he had been interrupted, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his mind to focus. Diego had broken whatever streak he had been on. Growling, Five decided he needed coffee. He had made Allison buy a tin of high end coffee last time they had gone to the store, so at least he could be guaranteed one less disappointment this morning.

 

Blinking to the kitchen, he was startled to discover someone sleeping at the table. Klaus had his head pillowed on his arms, curls obscuring his face as his body rose and fell evenly with soft breaths. In front of him was a mug of what smelled like ginger tea, though it no longer wafted steam. Five sighed. It seemed he had dodged a bullet, so to speak. If Five had to deal with one more of his siblings before he had a decent cup of coffee, he was going to start putting bullets in people.

 

He located the grounds on a lower shelf (Allison mentioned it would be easier for him to reach than the regular location on the topmost shelf, a fact that Diego couldn't stop giggling about) and quietly inserted them into the percolator. Just because Klaus was asleep didn't mean he would stay that way. All of them were light sleepers, Klaus most of all, and Five really didn't want to deal with the fallout of putting bullets in one of his siblings this morning.

 

As the coffee prepared itself, Five moved to the bowl of fruit Grace had placed on the counter. He was a bit hungry, but nothing quite sounded good. Eating what you could in the apocalypse meant that he only ever ate out of necessity and never for the pleasure of it. Even all those years in the Commission hadn't broken him of the habit. He momentarily debated between an apple and a pear when the coffee machine beeped its readiness. Plucking the apple up, he took his now full mug and placed them both on the counter.

 

Opening the silverware drawer, Five studied the contents. Normally, Five would eat apples however they came, especially if one of his siblings were present. Now, however, he was alone in the house with no witnesses, which meant that he could skin his apple if he wanted to. Luther used to laugh at him when he found out Five preferred his apples without the skin, so much so that Five stopped asking Mom early on to do it for him. But Luther wasn't here and he had only gotten three hours of sleep in the past forty-eight hours and he didn't give a damn if it was unnecessary, he wanted the luxury of a skinned apple. 

 

Only there didn't seem to be a paring knife in the drawer. In fact, there didn't seem to be a single sharp knife in the entire kitchen. Five was only confused for a moment, before the memory of the previous night emerged. Diego had made steak last night in celebration of  _ something _ for all of them to eat together. He had also hidden every single knife capable of cutting steak. So every single one of them was forced to cut their steaks with dull flatware knives. Diego had cackled the entire meal, especially when Luther broke a plate in two with the pressure of his sawing.

 

Five was going to scalp Diego with his own knives. Infuriated, he snatched up a regular knife, devising his most creative plans to make Diego pay. 

 

It wasn't until the sharp pain in his hand broke him from his revenge plots that he realized what a big mistake he had made.

 

He had gotten the apple cut alright, but the amount of force he had been using to force the dull blade to pierce the skin of the apple also had the same effect on his skin. Blood welled around the apple clutched in his hand and apparently he had made some sort of noise, because suddenly Klaus was right in front of him, fluttering his hands around the wound.

 

"Aw, jeez Five," he sighed, removing the apple from his injured hand and pressing down with one of their Mom's favorite dishcloths firmly. He guided Five into one of the kitchen chairs and knelt in front of him, both hands clutching Five's injured one tightly. Five was blinking rapidly, trying to focus on Klaus' face and the stream of words coming out of his brother's mouth. Surely he wasn't in  _ shock _ , he thought disdainfully. He had been in situations way worse than this one. Yet his stupid teenage body didn't seem to want to respond to him at all. The world was too fuzzy and too sharp at the same time. It wasn't until a cool, wet cloth was draped on the nape of his neck that his senses came back. First, the sharp screaming of his hand made itself known. Klaus' stream of consciousness words came next, followed quickly by the cold heat coursing through his body. 

 

"Just breathe," Klaus was directing, which seemed like such an obvious thing to do until Five realized he had been holding his breath. He let it out with a violent  _ whoosh _ and focused on Klaus' hands instead. "That's it, very good. Now I'm going to take the cloth away to see what we're dealing with, alright? Just for a minute. You don't have to look." Of course he was going to look, he wasn't a wuss. He had been injured and provided himself first aid for longer than his brother had been  _ alive _ . Knowing what you were dealing with was imperative to finding a solution and moving on.

 

Klaus didn't seem to require a response from him, because he deftly removed the cloth to inspect the wound. Before the blood had a chance to well up again, Klaus returned the cloth and the pressure back to his hand. He must have made some sort of noise of distress, because Klaus was looking up at him with a sympathetic smile and reassuring him with more nonsense words. This was really getting old.

 

"Now, can you walk to the infirmary or do you need me to carry you?" Klaus asked in an even voice.

 

"Of course I can walk, you moron. I cut my hand, not my leg," Five bit back, fury trembling in his voice.

 

Klaus gave him one of his rare genuine smiles. "Great. Let's get you standing, there you go. Upsy daisy!"

 

"If you don't stop treating me like a two year old I will take that knife and stab you in the jugular," Five ground out, yanking his injured hand away from Klaus and applying pressure with his other.

 

"Yes, yes," Klaus agreed cheerfully as he lead the way into the foyer towards the infirmary.

 

The journey to the infirmary was both blessedly quick and painfully slow at the same time. Klaus couldn't seem to stop  _ touching _ him in some way; on his shoulder, his elbow, his back. Five was reticent to touch on a good day and it was driving him insane. The only thing that stopped him from breaking Klaus' wrist was the raw, worried look Klaus flashed him when he thought Five wasn't looking. 

 

After Five climbed up on the exam table, Klaus seemed to hesitate.

 

"I think it's gonna need some stitches," he said apprehensively. "Do you want me to get Mom or do you want me to-" he gestured to Five's hand wrapped in the now bloody dish towel.

 

"I can do it myself," Five dismissed as he hopped off the exam table to locate the suture kit.

 

"Whoah, whoah, whoah, whoah," Klaus tried to step in front of him. "There's no need to-"

 

Five gave him his iciest look. "I can do it myself."

 

Klaus gave him an incredulous look which would have been laughable any other time. "With your non-dominant hand?"

 

Five hesitated only a moment. "Yes."

 

Klaus rolled his eyes heavenward and gave one of his dramatic sighs. "Um, no. Sit. I'll do it."

 

Five snorted. "Like hell you will."

 

Klaus rummaged in the drawers, emerging with the suture kit. "Sit. I'll have you know I had the steadiest hands in the A Shau Valley."

 

Five worked to keep his face menacing and not at all surprised. "And I'll have  _ you _ know that I have been stitching up wounds for longer than you've been alive."

 

Klaus just looked at him. After several moments in which Five pretended not to notice drops of blood escaping the saturated cloth he held firmly to his cut, he growled and climbed back up onto the exam table. "If you screw this up, I will make sure you regret it."

 

"I expect nothing less," Klaus said calmly, measuring out the thread.

 

Klaus took his hand in his 'Goodbye' one, expertly numbing the area before Five even knew what was happening. While they both waited for the medication to take effect, Five got a chance to really observe Klaus.

 

His curls were tangled, with some dried to his forehead from sweat. He was pale, paler than usual, with a flush of exertion high on his cheeks. He would have chalked it up to some late night club dancing or, even stranger than that, actual exercise, but Klaus had been sleeping when he had found him. Couple that with the abnormal heat coming from his normally cool hands and Five would bet a decent cup of coffee that Klaus was running a fever.

 

Testing the site with a small prick, Klaus took the threaded needle and began the first stitch. He had been telling the truth, Five begrudgingly admitted to himself. Not only were Klaus' hands steady, the stitches were neat and precise, hardly befitting for his loud and boisterous brother. He wouldn't have been able to manage half as well as Klaus did, though he would die before admitting that. The wound hadn't been neat either, more a tear than a slice, but Klaus managed to knit the skin back together neater than most surgeons would have been able to.

 

After carefully bandaging it, Klaus relinquished Five's hand back to him with a gentle pat. He was being awfully quiet, especially for Klaus, and it rubbed Five the wrong way. He decided that making small talk was better than this torture, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

 

"You learned how to do that in Vietnam," Five said, more statement than question. 

 

Klaus looked up from where he had been replacing the suture kit and gave him a grand smile. "There were more of us than there was available medical attention, so we learned pretty quickly how to do it ourselves." Klaus gestured vaguely to himself, before closing up the drawers and leaning against the counter.

 

Five nodded distractedly, not needing the verification but also doing his best to rid himself of the image of his brother, stranded in a different country during a literal  _ war _ , stitching up a wound for another soldier or even himself. It made every protective instinct he harbored for his siblings activate and he was definitely  _ not _ going there. Feelings were messy and just complicated things.

 

"Thanks," he mumbled, holding his bandaged hand close. Klaus flashed him a grin.

 

"My pleasure," he went to tousle Five's hair, but Five ducked and stuck his good hand on Klaus' forehead. The effect was instantaneous. Klaus stumbled back to the counter, his expression a mix between annoyance and vulnerability. He quickly covered it up with a knowing smirk. "Oh, dear brother, I had no idea you longed for more physical contact. Not to worry, I will rectify this oversight by enacting a schedule for cuddles. We will all take a different day of the week and draw straws for Sunday. Diego will be delighted!"

 

Five had to restrain himself from smacking his brother. Klaus loved attention, craved it more than he craved any drug, but only on his terms. A sprained ankle? He would insist upon having Diego and Luther carry him everywhere. Headache? He would beg Vanya for cold compresses and aromatherapy. A cold? He would stretch himself languorously on one of the many couches downstairs and bemoan his fate to any sibling within earshot. 

 

The fact that he was currently trying to play down his health coupled with his quieter demeanor meant that whatever was ailing him was more than a simple cold.

 

"Cut the crap, Klaus," Five gave a beleaguered sigh. He wouldn't make it out of this situation without showing his softer side, damn it all to hell. "You're sick. You're practically radiating heat from all the way over there. Your voice sounds like someone took sandpaper to it and you're moving too carefully to be normal. Now are you going to tell me what's wrong or am I going to have to go and get Mom to come and deal with you?"

 

Klaus gave him a sharp look at the mention of their mother. It wasn't that he, they, didn't love their mother and trust her to care for them. It had just been ingrained in them that any sign of weakness was something to be exploited and though she was their mother, she was also effectively their father's spy. Couple that with both of them being on their own for so long, it became instinct to take care of things themselves and on their own terms. It was something he didn't think he would want to let go of any time soon. But he also didn't want his brother to die of some stupid illness on his watch either.

 

"It's fine," Klaus shrugged, some of his nonchalance still apparent in his tone. "Sore throat. Headache. Probably a cold. It'll pass. Don't worry, baby brother, I doubt you'll get it." He waved his 'Goodbye' hand with an air of indifference.

 

Five ignored his baiting. "You don't get a fever like that with a virus, dumbass. Come here." Five gestured him to the exam table.

 

"Why do you even care?" Klaus whined dramatically, throwing his hands up. "I said it was fine! I've managed to survive this long on my own. Shut up Ben!" The last sentence was growled at the empty spot to Five's right.

 

Five was done with bantering. Blinking next to Klaus, he hauled his brother over to the table and shoved him onto it. Before Klaus was able to get a word out in protest, Five stuck a thermometer in it and held his mouth shut until he stopped struggling. Giving Klaus a glare promising certain death if he spit the thermometer out, Five began his crude examination.

 

He didn't know a whole lot about the human body, certainly not enough to become a medical professional, but he had had a lot of time in the standing library he found after jumping into the apocalypse and a seemingly endless array of textbooks. This had definitely come in handy during his time with Dolores, when his body tried to give out on him for a variety of reasons. It was even more helpful during his days at the Commission, when he was able to patch himself up without giving any sign of weakness to his employers.

 

Definite fever, though that was a given. He carefully palpated Klaus' neck with his good hand. Swollen glands. He removed the thermometer from Klaus' frowning mouth after the required three minutes. 102.1 F. He bit back a curse. Grabbing Klaus' jaw, he yanked it open and peered inside. Shushing Klaus' indignant grunt, he grabbed the exam light to get a better look. Scarlet streaks marred the back of Klaus' throat dotted with tiny white circles. Without thinking, he slammed Klaus' jaw closed again, ignoring the murderous look he was given and the painful click of teeth colliding together. Damn it.

 

He blinked to where he thought he had last heard their mom, searching the room until he spotted her. She was serenely dusting a shelf, giving no indication she had noticed him at all.

 

"Mom," he called, wincing at the way the word felt in his mouth. He hadn't needed to say it for decades and had up until now avoided using it. 

 

She looked up, her curls bouncing slightly, as she greeted him with a warm smile. "Hello, Five," she said warmly. 

 

Ignoring the answering warmth in his chest, he apprised, "Klaus needs assistance in the infirmary." 

 

Grace took in his solemn face and nodded once. "I'll be there in a moment."

 

Five nodded in answer, and blinked back to the infirmary, only to be greeted by Klaus' resentful expression. "What the hell, man?" he hissed, face a thundercloud.

 

"Strep," Five reported, gazing evenly at Klaus' murderous expression.

 

"So? You almost chipped a tooth! Your bedside manner is god awful!" Klaus moaned, rubbing his jaw theatrically.

 

"So? Strep can cause  _ sepsis _ you colossal idiot. Your body goes into organ failure. You  _ die _ ," Five spat, glaring right back at Klaus.

 

"I've had strep before and I didn't die," Klaus argued back. "Hell, I've  _ died _ before and it didn't stick!"

 

"That's not the point!" Five threw up his hands.

 

"Now boys, there's no need to shout," Grace said serenely, walking smoothly into the room towards the sterile gloves. Klaus shot Five a betrayed look that Five does his best not to take to heart as their mom turned back to Klaus, a sympathetic smile on her face. "I'm sorry to hear you're not feeling well, Klaus. Can you tell me what's bothering you?"

 

"Sore throat," Klaus mumbled, acting for all the world like the thirteen-year-old Five wished he wasn't. 

 

"Ah," Grace gave Klaus' 'Goodbye' hand a pat. She took a tongue depressor from her apron and cheerfully asked Klaus to 'say ah'. Klaus gives Five a pointed look before obeying. 

 

"It looks like a Streptococcal infection," Grace observed, removing a cotton swab and brandishing it in front of Klaus. "I do need to confirm, though. It will only be a moment."

 

Klaus gave her a shrug and dutifully held his mouth open. Grace swabbed and retreated in less time than it took for Five to blink, going over to one of the medical devices to confirm her diagnosis.

 

As they wait, Klaus made sure to shoot Five his most hurt looks before Grace returns with a syringe.

 

"Antibiotics, dear. To prevent sepsis." At this, she turned towards Five and gave him a meaningful look. Five resisted the urge to squirm. He knew he was being dramatic, but he wasn't about to admit that to Klaus. 

 

Five dutifully averted his eyes when Klaus lay down and exposed his hip for the injection. He tried to decide the soonest possible amount of time he can escape this entire mess of emotions and vulnerability when his mother lay a hand on his shoulder. "Your turn."

 

He blinked. "My what?"

 

"Your turn for antibiotics," his mother explained gently, guiding him towards the now vacated exam table. Klaus stood beside it smugly, greasy curls and flushed cheeks lending his expression an even more triumphant look.

 

"But-" Five cut himself off and glanced at his bandaged hand, panicked that Klaus had somehow done something while he stitched him up.

 

"You did stick your face in my mouth," Klaus said to him solemnly, eyes twinkling with delight.

 

"It's just preventative, but the bacteria strain is quite virulent and we don't want you come down with anything," his mother explained soothingly, as if an injection is a worrying prospect.

 

"We all know how your bedside manner is," Klaus mentions ceremoniously, mouth twitching with mirth.

 

Five resisted the urge to break his brother's self-righteous expression. 

 

He should have gone with Diego.

**Author's Note:**

> So this story was based on the time when my youngest brother decided he didn't want to find a paring knife to skin his apple and decided to use a regular dinner knife. I told him that it wouldn't work. So while we watched the Disney Channel, he elected to ignore me and try and skin his apple. The apple never cut, but his hand sure did.
> 
> He probably should have gotten stitches, but he is very proud of his gnarly scar to this day, so more power to him.
> 
> I really am worried about the characters being OOC, so I may modify the chapter a bit later when I can stand the sight of this story again. It's part of my creative process. I make something, I hate it, I wait a few days, I like it.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are most appreciated! Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
